


Let's talk, shall we?

by JanaxIV



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Gen, Named Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Psychological Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:54:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29818326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JanaxIV/pseuds/JanaxIV
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1893517
Kudos: 3





	Let's talk, shall we?

By the time the massive doors across from him slide open, Kere'a has long since lost count of how many hits he has taken. What parts of his body aren't in intense pain, have by now started to go numb, his eyes slightly unfocused due to the damage caused to his insides. Still...he can handle this. He has to. If nothing else, he wants to survive to see the ones he loves again.

"That is quite enough now."

He remembers the voice. It's the guy who captured him in the first place, his armor distinct from the rest of the soldiers. So a legatus then?

"It wouldn't do if he dies before we have a chance to question him. Not that pain will be of much effect anyways - after all, our esteemed  _ guest  _ is a paladin." 

Gritting his teeth, he glares up at the bastard, an empty threat for the time being. After all, with his arms encased behind his back by some massive magitek contraption, there's little he can do. Still, there's a grimm satisfaction in knowing that the Garleans had to restrain him this much, so he wouldn't end up clawing one of them to death.

He watches the tall figure approach, twitching almost involuntarily, as if ready to attack despite his severe disadvantage, ears folded back and face contorted into a snarl. It serves little more than to earn him a bemused smirk.

"I do admit though…" The kick against his stomach makes his whole body recoil, causing him to curl up with a pained hiss. Even with his armor on, that wouldn't have gone without damage, but without? Kere'a is pretty sure it may have ruptured something in his abdomen. "- it's incredibly satisfying to put a feral beast in its place. Heal him up and leave. I'll send for you when I'm through with him."

At the first touch of magic, he has bile rising in his throat, his breathing coming yet harder still than before. Given his role, he's used to different forms of healing - from Rathos dragging the purest form of holy aether from the air with an efficiency unlike any other, over the gentle, almost playful energy of Fei's fairies, to the vast and breathtaking flow of Myghal calling upon the universe itself - but this? It's like tar, clogging every pore in his body, suffocating him, while barely fixing the worst of his injuries. 

But clearly it's enough for his captor…

Moments later they are alone, the man towering over him with a smug smirk, before slowly squatting down to be closer to Kere'a's prone form. Time ticks by as neither of them speaks, each seizing the other up, waiting for any sort of reaction. Finally, the bastard's face turns into a wide smile, armored fingers gripping the hair at the base of Kere'a's skull and lifting him partly.

"My, my...you most certainly are a fascinating savage~ One of the fabled Heroes of Light, yes? Well then. Why don't we have a little chat? I'm sure we can settle this situation in a way we both find agreeable - no?"

He remains silent, refusing to give the other the satisfaction of even having Kere'a curse him. No, if the bastard wanted to hear something, he'd have to drag the sound from him by force. 

"Let's start with something easy. Your group was well coordinated. Too well for people who just met, meaning you've all worked together before. How many more does your company number, and how many of them are your ilk?"

_ Your ilk.  _ No doubt he means those  _ blessed _ with the echo by Hydealyn. Regardless of what he means though...it's not like he'll get an answer.

Seeing that he's not about to open his mouth, the Garlean closes his eyes with a heavy sigh, placing a finger under Kere'a's chin and tilting it up, making their eyes meet. His voice is disgustingly sweet when he speaks, poisonous honey coating a vicious dagger.

"Your silence will afford you nothing, my precious little beast. We know where the Scions now reside - and where that lot goes, you and the other  _ warriors _ are hardly ever far."

A thinly veiled threat, but it hits, causing him to grit his fangs slightly harder, body tensing up. He knew the other's in the free company could handle themselves just fine, but the Scions' headquarters had been attacked once before - the bloodbath is still clear in his mind. 

“Hit a nerve little Paladin? You're a protector, you take the pain, so others won't have to...even now, you're suffering in their stead. And yet, if we were to attack now, you would not be able to do anything about it~"

The more he is forced to listen, the harder it is to breathe, his body starting to tremble. They would be alright, he had to trust they would be - each of them was a tried and trained combatant, they had weathered so much already, they could handle a Garlean attack! Yet still, Kere'a knows there are people at the Rising Stones who were civilians. People who would need protection…

"Let me offer you a deal~" His assailant's voice cuts through his raging thoughts, and he swallows hard, bracing himself for what was to come next. "Cooperate. Do so, and I promise we shall spare those who give no resistance."

_ Those who give no resistance?  _ What a cruel joke. None of the Ajir-clan's members would go down without a fight, none of them would surrender and rightfully so. Kere'a trusted them to hold their own - he'd have to trust just as much, that they would keep everyone else safe.

Taking a deep breath, he meets his captor's eyes, steeling himself for whatever response he would receive. 

"Fuck you."

The smirk falls from the man's lips, face hardening as he returns the glare, only to finally toss Kere'a back to the ground, rising to his feet once more.

"Very well. I'll make sure you'll have their broken corpses as company soon enough. Until then...enjoy your cell, my precious little savage."

Moments later, the soldiers from before are back, to drag him into the tiny room he was being held in. There was not much he could do to fight, really - but what little he was left with cost a few Garleans their fingers, and earned him a heavy metal mask, encasing the lower half of his face. It was almost worth it.


End file.
